Tracking down cycling fun in Quebec

For part of its route, the bike trail follows the meandering Tomifobia River. (René Bruemmer The Gazette)

Photograph by: René Bruemmer
, The Gazette

Quebec is justly seen as one of the world's best biking locales. Its Route verte, with 4,000 kilometres of bike paths traversing the most picturesque regions of the province, is the longest in North America and was voted first among the National Geographic Society's list of the world's 10 best cycling routes.

But cycling along rural highways designated as bicycle paths can be a jaw-tightening experience, cars and trucks zipping too close for comfort. Recent tragedies testify to the dangers. The sense of being at one with nature is often hindered by traffic on one side and a ditch or fence on the other. If young children, with their penchant for veering off suddenly in all directions, are along for the ride, a highway route is out of the question.

Which is why the Tomifobia Nature Trail, stretching 19 kilometres from the Eastern Townships village of Ayer's Cliff to the town of Beebe at the U.S. border, is a great choice for a worry-free ride.

Completed in 2002 after a nine-year effort by Les Sentiers Massawippi, a non-profit volunteer group, the flat trail is one lane of crushed stone built on an abandoned railway bed wide enough for two cyclists to ride abreast. Strictly off-limits to motorized vehicles (and horses - they don't get along with cyclists), it is a rare bicycle, walking and cross-country skiing trail that cuts through pristine wilderness and farmers' fields. Outside of the occasional bench or rustic birdhouse and small mileage marker, there's little to distract you from the wilderness and the small Tomifobia River meandering in a serpentine fashion alongside, and sometimes even under, the trail. There's even a chance a beaver might trundle across your path.

On the sunny Monday I set out from Ayer's Cliff, I had the path to myself. A small sign lets you know you're on the right path, patches of grass growing up through the middle in places. The sounds of civilization are quickly replaced by crickets, wind rustling through the grass and frogs croaking out their love.

The Tomifobia River, so snaky you expect it to double back and loop around on itself at points, is a wellspring of life, turtles the size of dinner plates sunning themselves on its banks, geese home for their summer holidays pattering in the flat fields nearby.

The path often passes through farmers' fields, cows grazing nearby, farmhouses and the occasional brush with a roadway the few signs of civilization. Don't pick the fiddleheads, hand-written signs implore. The path's creators had trouble with some residents who worried it would interfere with their privacy, but most houses are set far enough back that it doesn't seem to be an issue. It's wildlife and serenity as opposed to humanity that's of interest out here.

Often there is a vision of what nature looks like when left to its own devices, dead trees both upright and falling over are in fields of multi-hued verdant green as new life springs forth. Hopeful hawks soar overhead, waiting for an imprudent rodent to venture forth. None do, and the hawks soar elsewhere. Packing some lunch, water and a tool kit in case of a flat is a good idea; there are no services along the path. There's a nice picnic table tucked amid the woods by the river near the Kilometre 15 marker.

The path ends in the town of Beebe, but you can continue into pleasant Stanstead on a mix of city streets and bike trails, about two kilometres farther on, to have a look at the U.S. border and grab a well-deserved snack. Stanstead is also known as the granite capital of Canada, and half the jobs in the town are still linked to the rock. You can also visit the Granite Expo and Museum. Be warned, however, that the path becomes somewhat confusing after Kilometre 19, and it's easy to get sidetracked onto city streets.

On the way back, I nearly biked right by a beaver waddling through the grass. Completely unfazed by my presence, it continued on its way as I snapped pictures, then glided into the river and found its grace. In this zenlike state, I continue back, sore of backside but calm in spirit after 42 kilometres of peaceful riding.